


you never know who you'll meet in your dreams

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Not AU, slowish burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 17:58:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8677345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: the-demon-inside-you prompted mckirk+"you're lucky you're cute"





	

It’s something of a tradition between them, all at once sickeningly sweet, ridiculously dorky, and at times distressingly morbid. 

)

It starts on the shuttle ride; they both look worse for wear and together they’re sharing a flask of shitty whiskey. When Bones mumbles _“I may throw up on you_ , _”_ Jim takes it as a joke. When it actually happens… well, Jim still treats it like a joke.

Bones looks up after he’s done retching, a spot of bile at the corner of his lips and his eyes watering unpleasantly. Jim pats the top of his head, smoothing out his askew hair. Jim laughs–both at the discomfort of everyone around them, and a bit at Bones’ self-fulfilling misery. Jim laughs and coos, _“you’re lucky you’re cute.”_

)

From there, it escalates. Jim says it to Bones whenever the good country doctor complains too much or too long or about things that can’t ever be changed. (”M’telling you, Jim, if these morons–” “You’re lucky you’re cute, Bones” “What–Jim–what the _hell_ , kid–oh, forget it.”) Bones says it to Jim whenever Jim does just about _anything._

)

“You’re in my bed.”

“ _Bones_ , too loud, shhh.” Jim waves a tired hand at his friend. He knew this bed felt different, _better_. He snuggles deeper into the pillow and doesn’t protest as Bones flits about the room grumbling. At least Bones is grumbling quietly. 

“Jim, you shouldn’t sleep in your uniform.” 

Jim shrugs–or at least, he tries to, he’s too exhausted to know if his body actually moves.

“C’mon, I’ve got some pajamas you can borrow.”

When Jim doesn’t move, Bones clearly decides to take charge. He rolls Jim as gently as possible onto his back and starts to strip him of his cadet reds. He’s gentle and efficient and even though his touch is practically sterile, Jim finds a heat blooming in his groin whenever their bare skin brushes together.

After a bit of struggling and craft maneuvering, Jim is in a white tank and plush sleep pants with _Ol’ Miss_  scrawled down the side in fading letters. He settles back under the blankets while Bones changes out of his uniform too.

Bones slips under the covers and sighs right in Jim’s face. Jim’s nose wrinkles but he moves closer to Bones’ warmth. Another sigh, and a whisper, _“you’re lucky you’re cute, kid_. _”_

)

Jim grins in the face of Bones’ shock.

“No one goes back for seconds, let alone _thirds_ ,” Bones practically spits. He looks at Him as though he’s grown another head or six. If Jim squints and tilts his head, he’s pretty sure he can see a few tendrils of steam billowing from Bones’ ears.

“Oh Bones,” Jim sighs. His grin never falters though. “You worry too much. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“You’re lucky I don’t sedate you, crazy bastard.”

“Gotta go study!” Jim says suddenly–he’s long since learned that Bones has a readily available supply of hyposprays, and he knows Bones wouldn’t hesitate to sedate Jim. 

)

Jim wakes up slowly. He’s irritated that he keeps falling asleep, he was dead for two weeks for god’s sake. He’s had enough sleeping to last him the rest of the year, rest of his five-year mission. He doesn’t wanna sleep anymore. 

“Oh, you’re up.” Bones observes as he strolls in, dressed in civvies rather than nurse-whites, carrying a tray of _real_  food in his hands. “Got you food.”

“You’re amazing,” Jim croaks as he sits up slowly. He makes grabby hands at the tray until Bones passes it over. He digs into the food–all hot and warm, salty and _bad_ , and god he almost died, he deserves these carbs–without another word.

Bones snorts a laugh. He reaches out and gently skirts his fingers over the scrapes along Jim’s scalp, the cuts nearly healed. He combs his touch through Jim’s messy hair before cupping the back of his neck. Bones clears his throat.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, Jim,” he teases, though his voice cracks in the middle.

Jim stops shoveling food into his mouth long enough to look up. He sees the exhausted anguish in Bones’ face, and the tears in the corners of his eyes. It’s been a few days since Jim came back from the dead, though it feels like it’s been years for Jim. Dying really messes with your concept of time. 

“Bones,” Jim murmurs. He sets down a fork to free up a hand and reaches for Bones’ waist. He slips his fingers under Bones’ well worn tee-shirt. He thumbs the chilled skin. “M’here. I’m okay.”

)

Jim’s skin burns–in a good way–as he watches his friends all raise their glasses to him. They cheer,  _“happy birthday!”_  and for the first time in his life he’s too happy to recoil from the words. He looks over at Bones, who’s looking right back at him as though Jim hung the moon and stars himself.

“Bones, you shouldn’t have.” He teases.

“Couldn’t help myself, kid.” Bones says, not sounding very sorry at all. He accepts a drink from Scotty, as does Jim. “Hope you don’t mind, Jim.”

Jim doesn’t, really. He’s okay with celebrating his birthday, something he’s never felt before. He holds off on answering just to make Bones sweat. After a good long moment, he looks at Bones again. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he jibes. 

Bones’ laugh sounds like a growl and he hauls Jim in for a distressingly chaste kiss. “Brat,” he replies through his laughter.


End file.
